Jason laughed. Ever since Theresa had stood herself up, she’d been inordinately proud. Now that she was starting to walk, she didn’t miss a chance to show off. When she tripped over the fire log sitting strangely by itself beside her sandbox Jason couldn’t help laughing at her startled expression.
He picked up his crying daughter and the log. Before taking Theresa back inside he dumped the wood back on the little stack by the fence.
Jason continued laughing, carrying Terry into the house. From the wood pile a malignant cackle followed him.
About the Creator
Roy Stevens
Just one bad apple can spoil a beautiful basket. The toxins seep throughout and...
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Keep reading
More stories from Roy Stevens and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Based On Actual Events
Eyes open. Feet, human feet in their rich cladding. Smells, all alien; human again. No water and no water plants, but fish! Out of no logic in this hard place the smell of fish. Under paw pads the hard, very flat ground is thrumming. The only sound seems to be an unimaginably loud roaring threat response from some otter so large he can hardly believe it’s possible. It shakes the space all around.
By Roy Stevens3 years ago in Fiction
Babbling Dixie
The short form of tomorrow is never the whole story. Abbreviations mean nothing when we are born to die and we all are aren't we? Being spoken for before birth is something we're not supposed to remember like some kind of karma after effect. Still here we are spending our lives looking for each other.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle5 days ago in Fiction
The Unthinkable
I don't do dark skinned sistah's. They just don't appeal to me. I like them light-skinned and thin with long, black, hair. Well, at least, that's what I thought, until she came around. I was drinking a latte when she entered the coffee shop. She walked past me towards the counter. Her skin was the color of mahogany, a color brown that I wasn't accustomed to noticing, that is, until now. She was wearing a magenta business jacket and skirt with an off-white blouse. Her shoes were black with straps that crossed each other and wrapped around her ankles. I tried to ignore her, and tried to place my attention elsewhere, but she just stood out. I found myself staring at her, eyeing her from head to toe. Every time I fought to look away, I found myself eyeing her again. I looked down at my cell phone, scrolled through articles on my favorite news app, and took slow sips from my latte, trying hard to make sure that my eyes stayed focused on one of the articles. I even thought about Sheila, the lovely sistah' in the complex next to mine. She was tall and thin like a model, had a head full of long, lovely, black hair that flowed down past her shoulders. Her skin was high yellow, and her eyes were the most beautiful green that I've ever seen. I was sitting thinking about Sheila and how I would approach her but, suddenly, I looked up and saw her. She was standing in front of me sipping from her cup. My eyes locked in, and she looked back at me, smiled and approached me. "How are you?" she asked. "Name's Seyrann Oku." "Hello," I replied. "Didn't get the name," she continued. "Maxson," I replied. Maxson Welch." "Oh, like the Jam?" she asked, laughing. "I bet you go well with peanut butter." Her laugh was infectious, all I could do was stare. If I opened my mouth and replied to that peanut butter comment, nothing but foolishness would come out, so I just kept quiet. "Oh, the strong silent type," she said, still smiling. "I like that." "I...I...I wanted to put her down, wanted to tell her that I wasn't into dark-skinned sistah's, wanted to tell her to get lost, that she didn't have a chance in hell, but I had a problem. I just couldn't get my mouth to move. "Look, why don't you come over, and I'll make you a nice supper." she said, still smiling. "I bet you haven't had a home cooked meal in ages." She was right. I haven't had any home cooking since I left home fourteen years ago. Long time to go without home cooking. All I've done is fancy restaurants and delivery, especially when I was trying to bag women like Sheila. "Here's my address," she said, still smiling. "It's easy to find. It's across the street from the Neon Palace." "The Neon Palace?" I said, trying hard to fight my cornballism, "Isn't that the Chinese fusion restaurant that everyone raves about?" "Don't even think about it," she said. staring directly at me. "A home cooked meal is what you need. See you at eight." I wanted to tell her not to waste her time, but it just wouldn't come out. All I could do was sit there and stare. When I got home, I seriously thought about standing her up, leaving her straight hanging, but I didn't, I showered up, got dressed, and I went right to that woman's house. I found my way there just like she said I would. I got to her apartment and knocked on the door. I pushed the door gently, and it opened. As I walked in, I was greeted with a wonderful aroma. I was expecting her to still be preparing food, but I saw everything there on the table. "Hello?" I said, looking around. "Your door was open." I was about to say something else, and then she entered the room. She was dressed in this wonderful outfit. The top half looked like a nightie, and the bottom half looked like a scarf just tied around her waist. "You're right on time," she said, smiling. "Come. Sit. Let us eat." Seyrann prepared my plate first and then prepared her own. We ate. It was quiet until she asked me to tell her about myself. I told her my story, told her where I came from, where my people were from, and how I got here. I talked about my job and some of my ambitions, and then, I asked her to tell me some things about herself. "I work in the city," she said. "I'm into advertising." "A lot of accounts?" I asked. "Several," she replied. "Any I might be familiar with?" I continued. "And why would you want to know that? she asked. "So we can make conversation and not end up boring one another." "Talking about what we both do for a living is boring." she said, staring at me. "So, what do we talk about? I asked. "Rituals," she replied. "Rituals?" I said, staring back at her. "Yes," she replied. "Between man and woman." I was about to say something, but she cut me off. "Say this mantra with me," she said. I was against it, and I was ready to leave until she held both my hands and spoke to me. "It's alright," she said. "You'll find peace with me." We began to read the mantra, and I suddenly found myself kissing her hands. As we both continued reading, I found myself pulling her close to me. Our words were in sync as we held each other, and we embraced for what seemed like hours. I found myself walking her to her bedroom within that embrace. As we completed the mantra, I bowed before her and gently kissed her feet. I found myself on my knees before her complementing her beauty. "Stand up," she said. "You were not meant to kneel." "You put a spell on me," I said, not knowing what else to say. "This is your truth," she said, "If it were not so, neither of us would be here." The night with Seyrann was like no other, never had I felt this way with any woman that I had pursued. It was as if we had known each other for seven eternities. With each touch, with each embrace, we'd go to levels where our minds would touch, where we knew each other's thoughts and dreams. Our spirits embraced and we tasted each other in ways that could never ever be explained in the physical realm. I tried hard to fight what I was feeling. It just didn't feel right to let go with a person who was not outwardly suitable to that fake world that had I created around me. I didn't want to go where my own truth was taking me. But wherever I went within the embrace, and within our coupling, she was there with me. Seyrann and I would go down this road many times. We'd read that mantra and go places that the world said was just a figment of our imagination. I know realize that my truth is with this woman. For years I denied women like her for the simple fact that I knew deep down that somewhere, down the road, I would find her and be complete.
By John Scipio3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
Hi Roy ~ Whoops you've done it again ~ Toddler-Training-Wheels may be worth stepping into! Jay Kantor, Chatsworth, California 'Senior' Vocal Author - Vocal Author Community -
This was good! I feel like it would make a great opening scene for a bigger story! So short but with such a big twist, great work Roy!
Lol, I did not see that coming! That was awesomeeee!
Oooo. And there I was wondering just how that log managed to get to where it could trip her up. Maniacal little thing.
🪵 yeah creepy, no thanks!
Great story. That last line is chilling. Well done. I'm a little stumped on the title. Is it a different language for the subtitle?
Great story❗